


Not Quite Mary Poppins

by claire_debonair



Series: Mary Poppins 'verse [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Complete, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claire_debonair/pseuds/claire_debonair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The one where Merlin is a nanny, Arthur’s both a prat and a normal human being, Morgana schemes and Uther does relatively little.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently archiving all of my stories from livejournal over onto here, which means briefly bringing back a couple of saccharine, cliché-riddled pieces, including this one and its sequel. It's a little like diabetes in fic form, but it's here for posterity.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a young son must be in want of a nanny."

  
"Gwen, could you stop butchering poor Jane Austen and help me pick out a jacket?"  
  
As far as beginnings go, it isn't a very good one, but then again that's actually pretty fitting. Not all epic tales have an auspicious start, and the ones that do, well. We all remember Romeo and Juliet, right? So, perhaps it's for the better for Merlin to have such a horrible feeling about this interview, the sort that makes him despair over his jackets and mutter in Welsh about how it'd look like he's trying too hard if he does take those references from the owner of Ealdor Agricultural Supplies with him after all.  
  
Gwen, his friend, his bestest friend in the _whole entire world_ who is helping to keep him sane long enough to get through this, removes the suit jacket in his hand with a sigh and replaces it with a much more casual blue blazer. "There. Much better."  
  
"Thanks." He can't stop himself sounding small and pathetic.  
  
"Honestly, Merlin, anyone would think you're nervous."  
  
"It's _Arthur Pendragon._ You do remember that stuff with his father last month, right?" He sounds slightly desperate, hoping Gwen will say 'yes' and then tell him not to go because she doesn't want him to be eaten alive for not being who he's supposed to be (never mind that they don't know who he's supposed to be, but he can't help thinking he isn't it.)  
  
"Yes." Merlin's hopes soar. "And this isn't him, and you aren't a company being taken over." His hopes crash like so many have done before.  
  
"It wasn't a takeover, it was a massacre!" Gwen slings his messenger bag over his shoulder, pulls his limp arm through the strap and pushes him towards the door. "A ma-"  
  
"Massacre, yes, we've established that. Look, if you don't get out of here and into the car I won't be around the next time you need someone to keep you sane." Merlin shuts up and gets into the car, Gwen giving off vibes that he'd think are smug were she not such a nice person.  
  
A nice person who delivers him to his _doom_ , otherwise known as the Pendragon estate. It's a stupidly large house set in parkland (parkland!), with what are apparently _deer_ roaming over the driveway. Merlin stares. Gwen stares - although hopefully also keeping an eye on where she's driving.  
  
"Okay, you have to get this job just so that my excuse for being late to work is 'I was navigating the five miles of driveway to Pendragon House'."  
  
Merlin buries his face in his hands and prays for a miracle or three.  
  
Not surprisingly, none are forthcoming.  
  
———  
  
"I just don't see why you feel it's necessary to hire a nanny, that's all!" The woman who opens that door after Merlin's yank on the stupidly ornate bell-pull is beautiful, in a sort of terrifying way. She turns around in a flourish of glossy hair and expensive silk, and by virtue of Merlin standing two steps down he ends up on eye level with her equally terrifying cleavage.  
  
"Can I help you?" Behind her surprisingly polite question Merlin can see confusion; clearly, whoever she was waiting for, it's not him.  
  
"I'm Merlin Emrys?"  
  
Her eyebrows lift. Merlin waits for the rebuttal. "From the Albion Agency?"  
  
"Yes?" He will stop talking in questions some day soon, he promises himself, and resists the urge to turn around because the sight of Gwen's car vanishing down the driveway would be too depressing.

"You're the new nanny then." Merlin nods, about to apologise (it became automatic after the fifth family who expected a nanny and got a guy with messy hair and too large ears instead), but gets beaten to it by the woman. "I'm so sorry, you'd better come in."  
  
"I- oh. Okay."

The house, like the bell-pull, is stupidly ornate. Far too many painted eyes follow Merlin as he follows the scary lady ( _You're not the child, Merlin, stop saying that_ ) across an entrance hall he's fairly sure could be marked out and used to play tennis in and into a surprisingly cozy sitting room.

That she yelled from the door to here and was heard is evident as the man waiting there re-starts the argument where they'd left off when the woman had gone to open the door. He apparently doesn't notice Merlin standing behind her, because his first words are:

"Because Sophia is a heartless, backstabbing betrayer who would probably like to kill me, and Gawain needs a female influence in his life that isn't her _or_ you. Hence the nanny."

Merlin counts himself lucky that looks have never swayed his opinion about someone, because this guy is absolutely gorgeous, and yet Merlin still thinks he's a prat.

"You didn't leave her out in the hall, did you?" He glares. Merlin bites his lip to stop the smile tugging at his lips. If he does get the job, this is going to a **lot** of fun. "Morgana, if you've scared her away already-"  
"Arthur, meet Merlin Emrys. Gawain's new nanny." She steps aside, Arthur sees Merlin, and that, as they say, is when it all goes to hell.

——

"The _only_ reason I'm still here, and I mean that, is because I think your sister would disembowel me if I ran away." Merlin waves a piece of paper detailing times for Gawain's summer fencing lessons at Arthur and glares. Arthur glares back, arms folded in a way he probably thinks is menacing. "And, also, how much stuff did you sign your kid up for?"

" _Step_ -sister, not that it's ever really mattered." Arthur shifts, looking the faintest bit uncomfortable. "And he needs stuff to do, when I'm not around."

Merlin raises his eyebrows. "There's got to be at least seven clubs here. Are you planning to be around at all?"

" _Yes_ ," Arthur snaps, "I'm not going to abandon him with _you._ "  


"But you'd abandon him with some woman?"  
  
Arthur splutters in the face of such logic. "Well, yes, I mean, _no_ , but, look, you're a _man_!"  
  
"And you're a prat. Are we done stating the obvious?"  
  
"I'm your employer, technically you can't talk to me like that!"  
  
"Do you want to fire me and have Morgana after you?" Merlin takes a grim satisfaction at the look of abject horror on Arthur's face and returns to his heap of papers. "Horse riding? Piano? Archery? _Ballroom dancing_? Do you want him to be bullied or _be_ the bully?!"  
  
"I don't know what he likes," says Arthur, and Merlin would swear he sounds defensive. Deciding, in an obviously saintly moment, to let it go, he sighs.  
  
"I'm going to need to make a proper schedule for him at this rate. Is there anything else you've got planned for him, like seeing any friends, or his mother-"  
  
"No," interrupts Arthur, "that won't be an issue. Just those, and a weekly dinner with my father. His assistant will call to tell us when."  
  
"Right. In that case, shove off while I get started." Merlin drags his laptop out of his bag and grins up at Arthur, who ignores the command and nods questioningly towards the computer. "Gwen - the girl who dropped me off - made me bring it. Thought it might be useful."  
  
"Right." Arthur watches him for a while, seemingly content to lean against the fireplace as Merlin starts tackling Gawain's list of clubs and activities into something understandable. It's a little off-putting, but Merlin tries to tune him out, and eventually Arthur must decide he's had enough of watching the new nanny mutter Welsh swear words as he struggles to read the handwritten notes in various margins because he leaves.  
  
Merlin waves a hand over his head in acknowledgment of the half-amused "there's something about you, Merlin. I can't quite put my finger on it" that Arthur sends his way as he goes, and makes a note to ask the boy if he even _likes_ horses.  
  
It always pays to pre-empt a terrifying situation, after all. Merlin briefly wishes he'd managed to do it with this one.  
  
—-  
  
Gwen looks sympathetic as she listens to Merlin about the ridiculous demands Arthur has for his son, all the little things like no TV after seven, and two hours of piano practice before he can go run wild in the stupidly large gardens.  
  
Everything about Pendragon House, and the Pendragons themselves, is stupid, it seems.  
  
Gwen points this out. " _And_ you said Arthur's hair is stupid. What have you got against him already?"  
  
"He doesn't want me there. It's Morgana that thinks a male nanny is a good idea, apparently. I think she thinks Gawain's been traumatised by his mother."  
  
"Well, she was a bit...you know." Merlin nods but keeps silent, finding himself already planning the next day's schedule. "See, I knew you'd like this job."  
  
"What?"  
  
Gwen grins. "You've got that look on your face, the 'I'm planning a schedule' look. I don't know why you waste it on children, you'd be an amazing personal assistant. Not that you're a bad nanny, of course, I don't mean that, but-"  
  
"I know, Gwen." Merlin curls up even smaller on his sofa, casting a look at his laptop which is glowing bright because he'd just lowered the lid when Gwen came over, the spreadsheet currently making glorious sense out of Gawain's summer waiting for him. "But you see how badly I'm getting along with Arthur, right? And that's one parent; imagine what I'd be like dealing with the amount of people a PA does."  
  
Gwen pretends to wince, smiling. "Fair enough."

"And, alright, he's not that bad. I think he just isn't sure how to act like a human being."  
"Can you blame him, with a dad like Uther Pendragon?"

 

There's not really much Merlin can say to that.

\--—-

The next day goes much smoother, and if that's only because Gawain is there to act as a buffer (not that he knows it) between Merlin and Arthur, then Merlin has high hopes for this job.

Gawain is five years old and the spitting image of his father, although with a much better set of manners. Blond hair, blue eyes and a deceptively sweet smile make Merlin both cautious for future heartbroken five year old girls and wary of making Arthur smile like that. He looks carefully, when Arthur's not around, for any traces of the woman Arthur seems to hate so much, but can't find any.

He's not sure whether to be relieved about that yet.

In a quirk of fate that makes Merlin grin happily and just a little victoriously at Arthur over Gawain's head, Gawain seems to love him on sight. Within moments of introducing himself as 'Merlin, your new nanny' (bracing himself for the childish mocking), he's being asked a series of questions about wizards, and magic, and has he got an umbrella that lets him fly? Merlin grins even wider and answers with increasingly silly things, just to make Gawain giggle.

A phone call takes Arthur away for a good half hour, and when he comes back Merlin is teaching Gawain how to say please and thank you in Welsh, much to the boy's delight. Merlin's aware of Arthur watching, but does nothing to let on that he knows; something makes him want to keep that curiously soft expression on Arthur's face.

It's gone between one badly mangled 'ddiolch 'ch' and another, and Arthur clears his throat. "I have to go see my father; will you be alright here?"

Merlin isn't entirely sure who he's talking to, but Gawain answers for both of them. "We'll be fine, Dad." He looks up at Merlin with a serious expression once Arthur's gone, and scrutinises him carefully. Merlin holds still, well aware that how a child acts in front of their parents is _not_ how they might act when alone with the nanny. "He likes you."

That's... not what he was expecting. "Do you like me?"

"Yeah," Gawain says with a shrug, "but not like Dad does." He watches Merlin flail at that, then hops down off his chair. "Come on, I'll show you my room."

"Were all you Pendragons precocious?" It's a rhetorical question directed towards one of the portraits hanging on the wall as Gawain pulls him up the stairs, but Merlin isn't surprised when the boy answers.

"Pretty much. Grandfather says Dad was _worse_ than I am." He sounds awed.

Merlin doesn't doubt it.

\--—-

Morgana is comfortably ensconced in one of the sitting rooms at Pendragon House, quite peaceful and content with a magazine, when Arthur wanders in and starts talking without any regard for whether _she_ wants to talk or not. "He's got references from _Ealdor._ The agricultural company."

"Yes, Arthur."

"And Lord Bedevere, that guy who's always trying to get you to go flying. He's worth _millions_."  


"Yes, Arthur. So are you."  
  
"How did Merlin get references from them?"

Morgana sighs heavily and gives up on her magazine, her peace, and possibly Arthur's intelligence. "He _worked for them_ , that's how."

"But this is _Merlin._ He can't even make toast without burning it." Morgana knows this. She knows because the fire alarm was still going off when she arrived for her daily session of annoying Arthur, finding all three of them in the kitchen. Arthur had been glaring, hands on hips, at a sheepish Merlin, while Gawain raced around making noises like a fire engine.

"But he can organise Gawain's summer stuff, make a non-burnt packed lunch, make sure he's got the right equipment _and_ keep you on time for whatever meetings you've got, right?" Arthur shrugs, somehow managing to make it look grudging. "There's a reason he's one of the most sought after nannies in the country, you know."

"... He is?"

Morgana stares up at him. Arthur blinks down at her. "Did you not read his resume? My my, you are getting lax."

"I forgot." Morgana keeps looking at him. Arthur doesn't just _forget_ to read a resume, and definitely not for someone who'll be working so close to him. "Besides, Gawain likes him, so it doesn't matter."

"Ah. Gawain likes him. Of course. You know," she stands up and taps him on the arm with her rolled-up magazine, "he's also gay."

"How the hell do you know that?! I'm pretty sure it's not on his resume. And why are you telling me," he adds belatedly, but Morgana has already started smirking.

"I have my sources." It's time, she thinks, leaving Arthur to worry about what else she's going to discover and/or say, to take Bedevere up on his offer. She feels like flying today.

\--—-

The summer passes in an alarmingly pleasant way. Gawain takes to all of his classes, including ballroom dancing, with a show of talent Merlin can't help but attribute to his father. Once Merlin figures out that Arthur is capable of being a normal human being, and how exactly to make him act like it on a regular basis, he lets himself relax and concentrate on Gawain.

It's the day before Gawain goes to school for the first time, and Merlin is not a little surprised at his unconcerned attitude. "I went to preschool for a year already," shrugs Gawain when Merlin asks if he's nervous, "and some of the kids at my summer classes'll be there too."

Seeing the school he's starting at Merlin doesn't doubt it. Sitting in the warm kitchen with Arthur, both of them sorting through piles of papers, Merlin asks: "He's going to the Camelot Academy?"

Arthur must mistake the curious tone for something else, because his voice has that weirdly defensive tone Merlin hasn't heard since they first met. "Yeah. Something wrong?"

"No, no, not at all. It's just a bit, well, elite."

"What the hell do you know about it?" The _you're just a nanny_ goes unsaid, but Merlin flinches anyway. Arthur sets his pen down with too much force, sending it skittering away to clatter to the floor. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."

"Just a bit, yeah." Arthur won't meet his gaze. "It's fine, don't worry about it."

"It's not fine, Merlin; I shouldn't talk to a friend like that," Arthur says fiercely, at last meeting Merlin's eyes with what he'd swear is pride. It makes sense, knowing Arthur's inability to apologise for anything, and takes the sting away from his snappish remark. Then; "We are... right?"

"Yes, although how I can be friends with such a prat I'll never understand." Arthur grins, the same sunny grin as Gawain, and Merlin does _not_ look at the strip of skin exposed as Arthur leans down to pick up his pen.  
"How do you know about it, though? I thought Bedevere's kid went to that boarding school, Avalon Somewhere, and everyone knows that Ealdor woman homeschools hers."

Merlin blinks. "You read my resume?" Arthur gives him a well-honed 'you're a moron' look. They both have them, and both use them a lot. "Right, right, sorry. Well, I worked for Dr. Gaius for a while, until his daughter started at Camelot."

"Did you ever find out his last name?"

Merlin laughs. "No, oddly enough." Arthur joins in, papers abandoned as he leans back in his chair, hands laced behind his head.

"You'd think, being one of the most prominent doctors in the country, that someone would know his last name. Hey, wait, what's the daughter's surname?"

"No such luck; she uses her mother's maiden name."

"Ah well, never mind," Arthur sighs, still smiling. "Who else?"

"That's, um, that's it. Just them."

"You're a rubbish liar, Merlin. That sort of disgust at an elite school only comes from knowing someone awful who has a kid there, I know it. Now, tell."

Merlin tries to ignore the teasing note in Arthur's voice and pretends to be focused on Gawain's uniform list as he replies. "I worked for Nimueh du Lac for a while." The silence is deafening. "She, ah, fired me."

"I know," says Arthur tightly. "I think most people know that, I just didn't realise that that nanny was...you." Merlin very carefully doesn't look up, waits for Arthur to carry this on. After a pause in which Merlin may possibly pray to any and all gods he can think of, and also Gwen for good measure, Arthur speaks. "I'm glad she did. Otherwise I- Gawain wouldn't have you around."

The grin spreads across Merlin's face as Arthur abruptly pushes his chair back, scraping over the stone floor, and vanishes into the depths of the house.

Yep, definitely a good summer.  


\--—-  
  
They hit the first school-related snag about three weeks in, just before the October half term. Arthur, for all his insane workaholic tendencies, made it clear that he, not Merlin, will pick Gawain up from school each afternoon and the clubs that Gawain (of his own volition this time) has already joined.

Merlin is pleasantly surprised to find that Arthur remembers to do this every day without fail, even if he's had a five hour business meeting with his father and various board members.

Until one day he doesn't, and Merlin gets a call from a very worried headmistress (Camelot Academy believes in preferential service, apparently) that "Gawain is still waiting to be picked up, is everything alright at home?"

It's the first time Merlin hits Arthur, and to this day neither of them really know how they end up fighting, just that when they turn up to collect a sulky Gawain Arthur has a black eye and Merlin's got a split lip.  
They're both grinning like idiots.

Much later, once Gawain has been placated with promises of a new set of encyclopaedias - Merlin heartily approves, because it isn't something else sharp and pointy for him to juggle with book bags and lunchboxes - Arthur quietly confides that Sophia had called.

Merlin looks at him, the flicker of the film they were watching until Arthur spoke lending his face an ethereal quality. "What did she want?" Time was it would've been inappropriate for him to ask that, but too many early mornings getting a sleepy Gawain ready for school and a sleepier Arthur ready for work (not strictly his job, but Merlin's conscience doesn't like letting him inflict morning Arthur on anyone else) has trained them out of such things as propriety.

That, and their fist-fight that afternoon.

"To see him." Arthur stretches; Merlin starts to look away, then thinks what the hell, it's dark. "Why now I haven't got a bloody clue; it's been two years."

"Are you gonna let her?"

He's silent for a long moment. Anyone else and Merlin would reach out, ground them with a comforting hand against the peculiar quality in the air that's making them lean in towards each other. Then;

"I don't know. I'll see what he wants to do."

"Precocious as he is, he'll probably be able to give you a bullet-pointed list of the pros and cons." Arthur laughs, the thread of tension that's been building snapping. Merlin sighs quietly and suggests another film.

Arthur must be more distracted than he's admitting, because he doesn't put up a fight when Merlin suggests Moulin Rouge out of sheer mischief.

\--—-

One week, two days until Christmas, and Arthur decides to start the apparently obligatory 'needle the nanny about his sex life' questioning. It's happened to Merlin in every job he's had, once it comes out one way or another that he's gay, whether by slightly uncomfortable parents or slightly too interested ones.

At least Arthur pretends he doesn't know, although it doesn't last long because by this time Merlin can tell when he's lying. The conversation goes something like this:

"So, will you be bringing Gwen to the Christmas party?"

"No, because I wasn't planning on going myself."

At this point Arthur blinks at him, as if he didn't know this, hadn't been told it every day since informing Merlin about the giant party the Pendragons throw every year, and leans forward with an endearingly earnest expression on his face. "Merlin, it's a _tradition_."

"So is burning witches, and I don't see anyone prodding me into taking part in that." Merlin finishes wrapping a present for one of Gawain's teachers and reflects how fun it is to confuse Arthur, not that it takes much.

"Wha- you know, Merlin, sometimes I really don't get you."

"Good. Makes things more interesting."

Hmm," Arthur says, which could mean anything. Merlin keeps quiet. "Well? You're part of the family now, albeit an idiotic part who can't even curl ribbon properly, _give me that_." He leans over the low coffee table that they're kneeling either side of and steals the ribbon, the scissors and the present from Merlin. "And it's family tradition that we all bring our better halves to the stupidly over-the-top Christmas party."

Merlin chokes on the eggnog Gawain had insisted on making. Non-alcoholic, sadly. "And you think...me and _Gwen_?"

Arthur does a surprisingly good impression of clueless. "Yes? Why, did you break up?" Merlin senses he's about to be shown an attempt at an impression of pity for the non-existent ending to a non-existent relationship, and tilts his cup at Arthur.

"Stop it. I know you know I'm gay - Morgana let it slip - so enough of the frankly ridiculous pretending. I'm not going to the damn party." Arthur's next impression is of a fish, and not a terribly attractive one at that. Merlin grins and gets a faceful of ribbons.

"Okay, okay, fine. I was just trying to be..."

"Annoying?"

" _Understanding_ , giving you a chance to tell me yourself."

"Riight. Wasn't so you could see if Gwen's available, of course." Arthur is the very image of Gawain getting caught sneaking extra snacks after dinner, and Merlin ends up rolling on the floor, unable to stop laughing. Arthur waits it out with another one of their shared expressions, this one more of a 'you're a moron and I don't know what's going on so I'll just leave you to it' face.

"Done?"

Merlin wipes away a tear or two. "Yes, thank you."

"I _wasn't_ wondering about Gwen." Merlin just looks at him. "...well, maybe I was, but not for me! One of my friends is, well. Single."

"As much as I think she'd appreciate being set up with one of your friends - that is, she'd never forgive me for allowing it to happen - she's got a boyfriend. Lance. I think you'd like him, actually, he's into fencing and all that stuff."

"Why don't you invite them then? They'd be more than welcome to bring some sanity to the party."  
"Sure." Merlin smiles and makes a note on his hand, carefully not watching the way Arthur watches him. They fall silent as Arthur expertly curls ribbons and fastens them to the tops of the pile of presents Merlin has already wrapped, while Merlin writes cards for Gawain to sign when he wakes up.

It's almost embarrassingly domestic, to the point where Merlin thinks he should put on one of the awfully cheesy Christmas CD's Gwen hid in his bag as a joke. Arthur senses it too, and starts laughing, eyes bright and reflecting the inexpertly hung (courtesy of Gawain, Merlin and a stepladder) lights on the (stupidly ornate) tree.

He could get used to this, thinks Merlin, and straight away loses a bit of his happiness.

Nannies don't last long enough to get this domestically comfortable, usually.

\--—-

It's inevitable that Gwen and Morgana will get along like they've known each other forever, because that's just the way Arthur's luck runs. Merlin had warned him that this might happen, had said it with that teasing glint in his eye that made Arthur want to kiss him senseless sometimes and at others make him laugh until he cries.

It's just, he didn't expect them to be this obvious about it. Mistletoe and jokes about the von Trapp family are just so clichéd, somehow, and certainly not at the same level as Morgana's usual schemes. Although, actually, thinking about that, Arthur decides to be glad; this way he can see the traps coming and apply avoidance tactics.

He manages fine until he's carrying a heap of precariously balanced presents into the larger sitting room, grumbling about his father's insistence on bringing their gifts on the actual day. He always ends up stowing whatever large box Gawain receives under their tree long after all the other packages are neatly arranged, which is annoying.

There's a mild commotion in the room as hands from behind grab his waist and stop him in the doorway, and Arthur cringes. He can't see what's going on, vision blocked by the monstrosity Uther's bought for his grandson this year, but he can guess. By the strength of the person holding him it's Morgana, which means the person guiding (dragging) a confused Merlin towards them is sweet Gwen, who Arthur is now regretting introducing to his step-sister.

"Go on then, it's traditional!"

"Morgana-" Arthur tries to shift the box slightly to stop his voice being muffled. It doesn't work, mostly because he doesn't want it to end up on his foot. "It's only traditional if the people _don't realise_ , not if they get press-ganged underneath."

He doesn't expect Merlin's laughter, or for the present to be carefully taken out of his hands. Merlin is there, flushed from helping Cook and smiling like he's the happiest he's ever been. "Don't be such a spoilsport, Arthur."

He _definitely_ doesn't expect Merlin to lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, still grinning, before whirling away to deposit the present and carry on with whatever he was doing before they got grabbed.

Arthur stares. "Close you mouth, he didn't even use tongue," says Morgana, letting him go. She sounds inordinately pleased with herself.

"Saving that for after dinner," Merlin yells back from wherever he's gone, laughter in his voice, "I wouldn't want to shock him too much."

After that lunch seems a bit anticlimactic.

\--—-

Gawain _really_ doesn't want to go back to school in the New Year, and Arthur quite agrees with him. He still feels hungover from the party his friends had thrown to celebrate, even though he knows that's impossible. It could have something to do with the way Merlin still looks at him with a reproachful air, and Arthur desperately wants to know what he said or did when he got back at four am and proceeded to crash around until Merlin forcibly sent him to bed.

He gets over it, mostly, until Gwen comes to pick Merlin up one afternoon about a week later and chats to Arthur while they wait for him to finish whatever he's doing with Gawain. She smiles and talks about odd things, the sort of conversation Arthur's never really had because his father always wants there to be a purpose to talking.

Merlin's getting him used to it, slowly, with his ramblings and constant dashes from one topic to another.  
"How was your New Year then?" She's smiling, probably expecting more of the alarmingly domestic behaviour she's witnessed over Christmas.

"Gawain stayed with my father, which is a normal thing, and I went to a party organised by some old friends of mine. I got so drunk it sometimes still feels like my stomach never wants to see solid foods again." The smile drops off Gwen's face.

"What about Merlin?"

Arthur frowns. "What about him? I thought he celebrated with you, like he said he always does."  
"Lance took me away to Scotland for the entire weekend." They look at each other, and Arthur can practically hear the accusation in her eyes. "He was alone over New Year's?!"

"I-I didn't realise, I thought..." stammers Arthur. He doesn't actually know what he thought, just that he's getting the horrible feeling he missed something. Gwen's glaring at him, and he lets her; the tight feeling in his chest won't really let him do anything else.

Merlin comes flying down the stairs in his usual gangly way, sliding a little on the polished stone floor as he rushes over to where they're both leaning against a side of the huge doorway. "Sorry, maths homework was kicking both our asses. Ready?"

"Yep. Come on." Arthur watches them leave, Gwen still obviously angry with him. He's too busy wondering when Merlin stopped touching him to notice. When exactly they started resting a hand on the other's shoulder or back when one of them leaves, or even something so simple as a fleeting brush of hands when trading papers or whatever, Arthur can't pinpoint, but they have.

Arthur stays motionless, head bowed as he thinks deeply. He's almost sure Merlin hasn't touched him for a few weeks - longer than New Year, anyway - but any reason for it still eludes him.

He's still trying to work out what he can do to apologise and get Merlin touching him again without sounding too pathetic when Gawain wanders in for a drink, his tousled hair making it obvious that he and Merlin were more likely on the PlayStation than doing maths homework.

Gawain gets halfway out of the room before turning and saying, with all the drama of a five year old who thinks all adults are idiots, "he pretends like he doesn't mind, but he did really."

"I screwed up, didn't I." Gawain nods and clambers up to sit on the edge of the table. He's not strictly allowed, but Arthur knows Merlin lets him when he's making pancakes (his speciality, and now Gawain's favourite). Arthur gets the feeling his son is about to cross into much more important territory than the issue of Merlin's more relaxed rules.

"Yep. You like him, don't you."

There's no point in arguing; not only is Gawain ridiculously precocious, he's also perceptive. "I shouldn't, but I do."

"Why shouldn't you?" Precocious, yes, but he's still five.

"Because it'd be complicated. He works for me," Arthur explains, "and that puts him in an awkward position if I say anything about it."

Gawain shrugs. "So fire him." He says it with unshakable logic, as it appears to a five year old. "Then he can be my dad instead of my nanny." Arthur gapes, half-expecting to hear Merlin telling him to shut his mouth, he's not catching frogs. "That'd be good for everyone, except maybe granddad."

He abruptly hops down and runs off in typical five year old fashion, no doubt to carry on playing video games, leaving Arthur stunned into absolute silence and wondering if getting custody was a good idea after all.

An image of Sophia comes unwanted into his mind, permanently elegant and perfectly dressed without a crease, and it's joined by one of a ruffled Merlin dodging Arthur as he races to get Gawain's things ready for fencing.

Arthur's glad Gawain's not around to hear the groan he lets out. The boy would probably misinterpret (probably purposefully) and make a comment far beyond his years.  
He's well and truly head-over-heels for the _nanny_.  


——  
  
The day after Arthur sends Gawain away to his room as soon as they get back from school, promising him takeaway pizza (something never usually allowed) so long as he stays out of the way for the rest of the evening. Gawain complies a little too fast for Arthur's peace of mind, and he has to stop himself explaining to his _five year old_ that he's not planning on propositioning Merlin.

It's a quiet meal followed by the sort of laughter that makes your sides hurt and leaves you lightheaded, all because they watch one of the artsy films Morgana has taken to leaving around the house.

Arthur isn't sure whether it's a hint or just Morgana being Morgana, but it gets rid of the tension he's spotted - now that he's paying attention to it, which affords him no little shame - between Merlin's shoulders. Whether it's the film or the four hours they spend talking afterwards, Arthur doesn't care to work out, but whichever it is has the desired result.

Merlin starts touching him again.

Gawain walks around with a smug air for days afterwards, and Arthur would tell him off except he's pretty sure he looks like that himself.

—---

Valentines Day passes with a very quiet Arthur and a morose Gawain, who, when pressed, says he most certainly does _not_ miss his mother, but wishes "Dad had someone to share today with, you know? Someone who'll love him properly."

Merlin swallows hard and distracts him with a Welsh lesson.

\--—-  


Then Easter rolls around, and with it a bruised Gawain and a pair of amused adults, although they do their best to hide it.  
  
"You know, I remember a time when life wasn't interrupted at intervals by the most ridiculous situations ever." Merlin glances up from where he's dabbing antiseptic onto a nasty cut on Gawain's cheek and smiles at Arthur. "It's all your fault, you know."

"Oh, of course."

" _Ow_ , Merlin, that hurt," complains Gawain. Merlin refocuses and concentrates on not dabbing too hard. "And it's not his fault, Dad. I was the one fighting."

"I know, which is the problem." Arthur hides his smile and glares at Gawain, who looks chagrined and stares at his feet as Merlin moves on to the broken skin on his knuckles. Merlin looks up through his eyelashes, aiming for reproachful but landing nearer to coy, and it takes Arthur's breath away for a moment.  
"What does the letter say?"

Arthur blinks and rereads it as Merlin carefully bandages Gawain's hand. "That he and...another boy were caught fighting at lunchtime, and refused to tell the Headmistress why they were doing so when she called them to her office."

"Who was the other boy?" Gawain and Arthur share a glance that immediately makes Merlin suspicious.

" _Who_?"

"Merlin-"

"It was Mordred," interrupts Gawain, shooting a defiant look at his father. "He said some stuff about you that was horrible and obviously false, so I hit him."

"Gawain, you can't do that every time someone makes a joke about me being a manny. We've talked about this." The nickname for a male nanny had made Gawain laugh, at first, until Arthur had gently told him it was generally used as a derogative. Merlin isn't sure why Arthur had done that, but it had made Gawain fiercely defensive and gave Merlin a warm feeling for days afterwards.

They really have. Back during Gawain's first term, his affection for Merlin had developed a defensive streak that manifested after he endured one too many taunts about being looked after by a manny. It's nothing unusual, at least not for Gawain; Arthur often worries about how defensive he gets when someone makes a disparaging comment about Arthur himself, either concerning his failed marriage or his reputation for being a ruthless businessman.

Merlin sighs, sounding resigned, and sends Gawain off with instructions to ask for some Calpol if his bruises hurt too much. Arthur watches him go, battling between pride that his son can hold his own against a boy a year older than he is and concern about the alarming number of fights he's been getting into.

"We've been called in to see the Headmistress," Arthur says quietly. "She'll be there with Mordred, so you don't have to come if you don't want to."

"Don't be an ass," replies Merlin fiercely, "of course I'll be there."  


Arthur's pretty sure he's blushing with happiness, and takes himself away to his study before Merlin notices.  
  
\--—-

If the thought of seeing Nimueh had been bad, and it had been, then actually being in the same room as her is almost more than Merlin can stand. He keeps Arthur as a barrier between them as much as possible, which is practically from the moment they walk in to the moment they leave because Arthur clearly knows how much Merlin hates her.

"Arthur Pendragon, lovely to meet you" are her opening words, accompanied by a lush smile. She sends a poisonous look Merlin's way, and he's pathetically comforted when Arthur shifts subtly closer.

The meeting is pretty bizarre, because Mordred is as precocious as Gawain and just as certain that he was in the right. For his part, Gawain shows no embarrassment when he explains why he had thrown the first punch, and he obviously sees the faint twin smirks on the face of his opponent and his opponent's mother because he flushes with anger and raises his voice.

They leave with Gawain on a warning and Mordred in detention, Nimueh icy with anger.

Merlin takes Gawain to stand by the car, making him repeat fencing terms and dancing patterns until he's calmer and not showing the signs of Pendragon rage that Merlin can tell just as easily in him as he can in Arthur. Nimueh has caught Arthur's arm, drawing him away to speak to him with an intent expression.

Arthur listens for a minute or two before shaking her hand off and stalking away, face as pale as Gawain's had been. The two boys glare at each other with mutual hatred, which under other circumstances would make Merlin laugh, and then they're _finally_ away from Nimueh du Lac.

Merlin waits until Gawain is ensconced in his room tackling homework to ask Arthur what she'd said to him.  
"More stuff about you," he answers shortly, clattering pans in a way that will surely make Cook yell at him when she arrives later.

Merlin sighs. "If you want me to leave, I can-"

"No!" Arthur's right in front of him with a speed he should be used to by now, but he still gasps a little and rocks when Arthur's hands close over his arms. "She was _lying_ , okay, and I know she was, and if you _ever_ talk about leaving again I'll hit you."

"Because that's a surefire way to stop me quitting." Merlin tries for sarcasm and ends up with something veering towards breathless, because Arthur is _right there_ and saying he never wants Merlin to leave, practically.

He pulls away with a smile and a mention of organising Gawain's things for the morning, leaving in a hurry.

\--—-

Merlin isn't sure when he became 'Merlin, Arthur's better half' instead of 'Merlin, Gawain's nanny', but he apparently has because to date six people have referred to him as such. That two of them are Gwen and Morgana is to be expected; that Uther, on only the second occasion he's met Merlin, is another is _not_ expected.

It's Gawain's sixth birthday party, and from where he is in the dining room Merlin can hear him shrieking as he plays some sort of party game with his friends. It's one of those days you get in films, with perfect skies and the sort of heat that you know is languid even through a camera lens, oozing in through the french doors that lead out onto the patio from every room on the south side of the house.

Merlin has begged off participating in any more games for a while; he's got a nasty bruise on his hip from where Galahad had been a little too enthusiastic in his turn at the piñata. Clearing away the remains of the birthday lunch and replacing it with dessert is a much safer option, at least until Arthur wanders in.

Arthur's bright at the worst of times, but in the liquid sun he seems golden, Merlin's insistence that he set aside all work for the weekend making him look loose and relaxed. He's even bowled in an impromptu and entirely made-up game of cricket, and staged a mock duel with Lance to the delight of Gawain and his friends.

Merlin stares at him, Arthur catches his eye and oh, this is it, this is _everything_.

This is how it should be, the two of them in this house, taking care of Gawain and each other, balancing each others characters out.

 _Like two sides of a coin_ , thinks Merlin, and he grins suddenly. The voice belongs to the founder of the Albion Agency, a crusty old dragon who spends most of his time rambling on about destinies and Fate when he isn't finding people jobs.

Arthur grins back, warm and open and sidesteps a group of screaming children to join Merlin by the table.  
"Having fun?"

"Oh yes. I live for cooking seemingly endless bags of chicken nuggets and making tray after tray of muffins for a load of kids who won't notice if they're burnt or not in their rush to get back out to the bouncy castle some idiot of a parent thought it'd be a good idea to get." He's trying to be normal, to joke and tease and stop Arthur from seeing how hopelessly in love Merlin is with him, because right now he can't seem to hide it away.

He sees it the moment Arthur gets it, a widening of blue, blue eyes that's followed by an incredulous smile that Merlin almost can't bring himself to understand.

Then Arthur's kissing him, mouth flavoured with cool strawberries; he's stolen some of the children's ice-cream, lips slightly sticky against Merlin's and tasting sugary sweet as their tongues slide together.

Merlin loops his arms behind Arthur's head and grins into the kiss, which makes it more of a nuzzle than a proper kiss, but coherent thought is fading into the background of murmured conversation between adults and the low but persistent sound of a game of tag being played out somewhere in the parkland.

"We've got twenty-five bedrooms, why are you kissing in the middle of the dining room?"

Arthur barely pulls away long enough to answer a weary but happy-sounding Gawain, appearing from a field (judging by the grass stains on his jeans) to interrupt what is possibly the best moment of Merlin's _life_ \- and Gwen will never hear him admit that because she will tell Morgana and they will _mock him for eternity._  
"Better get used to it, kid."

Merlin lifts his burning face from Arthur's neck to see Gawain's grinning face. "Can you fire him now Dad? Please?" Arthur chuckles, the vibrations against his chest making Merlin mostly forget to be suddenly worried.

"Merlin," says Arthur softly, leaning in to press kisses along his jawline, "you're fired."

"Yes!" shouts Gawain in the middle of Merlin's slight heart-attack and major confusion. He yells for one of his friends, a boy Merlin remembers asking Gawain earlier who he is. Gawain, unusually, had refrained from answering. Now he says, very loudly and with an unmistakable note of pride, "Perceval, meet Merlin. My dad's boyfriend."

"Oh," says Merlin faintly. Arthur looks at him with a mix of amusement and affection- no, _love_ , and it's another one they share. Merlin just hadn't realised what it meant.

"Idiot."

"Prat."

There's only one way to end an argument like that, and it involved pretty much everyone, Gawain included, yelling at them to get a room.

They comply.

Well, there are twenty-five to choose from.


	2. Not Quite Mrs Banks Either

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A sequel to[Not Quite Mary Poppins](http://claire-debonair.livejournal.com/7768.html). The next year in the Pendragon household, in which Merlin is no longer a nanny, Arthur is still a prat but a loveable one, Gaius saves the day and Uther does nothing. _

"Last night I dreamt we were at Gawain's party again."   
  
Merlin barely pauses in his attempts to tie his tie without strangling himself while frantically searching for something. "Good for you, Gwen; have you seen my laptop?"   
  
"It's in your bag, which is hanging on the back of your bedroom door." Gwen leans against the door to Merlin's flat and watches with great amusement as he checks his bag to find that, yes, his laptop is right where he put it ten minutes ago. "We're going to be late, you know."   
  
"Lance would wait for a year for you, and Arthur won't mind. He'll spend the time waiting for us on the phone, hacking out the details of this business deal he's halfway through."   
  
"Don't you mean hashing," Gwen asks, shoving Merlin's jacket at him and yanking him out of the door. He barely has time to lock it before she's pulling him down the stairs.   
  
"With Arthur, no. Definitely hacking."   
  
Gwen stops halfway through unlocking her car and looks at Merlin. "I'm starting to think double-dating wasn't such a good idea after all."   
  
Merlin just grins and refrains from telling her that he finds Arthur in full businessman mode pretty hot.   
  
—-   
  
When Merlin moves in with Arthur _everyone_ knows about it, because it causes so much bloody _arguing_. It gets to the point where Gwen threatens to hold an intervention if Merlin turns up at her door to complain about Arthur one more time, and even Uther deigns to tell Arthur that strife this early doesn't bode well for the relationship.   
  
Gwen's threat falls on deaf ears; neither of them feel strong enough to ignore Uther.   
  
Irony abounds when Arthur finally consents to discuss the matter with Merlin, rather than continuing to act as if his request is to be treated as a royal decree. Merlin feels it's his duty as the one with a sense of humour to point the irony out.   
  
"You do realise that exactly a year ago today we were also arguing?"   
  
Arthur stops glaring at the floor and frowns at Merlin. "We were?"   
  
"The day before Gawain started school."   
  
"Oh." Merlin waits for Arthur to dredge up the memory of what that argument was about, and smiles slightly at the stricken look on Arthur's face. " _Oh._ I'm still sorry about that, you know."   
  
"That's not the issue here," Merlin replies, trying not to smile soppily. He partially succeeds, but only because it's impossible not to be soppy when Arthur looks like a kicked puppy. "The issue is me moving in."   
  
The frown returns full force. "I don't see what the big deal is; it's only-"   
  
"It's not 'only' anything, Arthur, it's you telling me I've got to give up working!" Arthur shoves his hands into his pockets, his slouch against the kitchen counter intensifying as he avoids looking at Merlin.   
  
Why they do all their arguing in the room with the most potential missiles Merlin cannot fathom, but they should really stop. It's far too tempting to throw a spatula at Arthur right now.   
  
"But your job was Gawain, and if I keep paying you to look after him now you're my boyfriend and moving in, it'll look weird!" Arthur looks defiantly at Merlin and blinks when he sees the soppy smile, finally let free. "What?"   
  
"You called me your boyfriend. You hadn't said that yet."   
  
"Yes I have. At Gawain's party."   
  
Merlin shakes his head. " _Gawain_ said it at his party, not you."   
  
"Right. Well. I've said it now." Something warm and fuzzy, like the blanket they've got over the back of the sofa in the coziest sitting room, curls up in his chest and tells him it's not going anywhere for the foreseeable future, and maybe not forever. Merlin's smile gets a little smug, because he's had no problem using the word since Gawain had announced it with such pride.   
  
Then the smile fades. "Arthur, I can't just stop working because I'm moving in."   
  
"Why not?!" Arthur shouts it the same way he shouts at the people who work for him, like Merlin will go wide-eyed and acquiesce to his demand the way they always do.   
  
"Because I'm not your sodding mistress!"   
  
They glare at each other for a long moment, caught in a deadlock where neither of them wants to admit that the other one has a point, and then Merlin starts laughing. It seems so absurd, suddenly, all this arguing, and he can't see a point to it.   
  
Merlin moves away from the table where he was sitting (he'd imagined this going so much worse, and thought he might need the extra protection of the solid wood), and walks to stand in front of Arthur, grinning fondly at this ridiculous man.   
  
"You're an utter prat, you know that?" Arthur smiles a little wryly, hands moving from the depths of his pockets to rest on Merlin's hips, pulling him in closer.   
  
"So you keep telling me."   
  
"Look," says Merlin sternly, "I get why you want me to stop working, I really do, but I'm not going to." He presses a finger to Arthur's lips to stop the looming protests. "I will compromise, though."   
  
Arthur narrows his eyes and speaks against Merlin's finger. "How, exactly?"   
  
"I'll ask the Great Dragon for a desk job. Finding positions for other nannies, or something." Merlin moves his hand away from Arthur's mouth to his shoulder and waits while Arthur considers.   
  
Finally Arthur sighs. "Fair enough." Merlin wraps him in a tight hug, grinning against Arthur's neck as Arthur's arms slide around him as well. "I was always going to lose this argument, wasn't I."   
  
"Yup. Start as we mean to go on." Merlin smirks as Arthur pulls back enough to glare at him, then pulls away properly. "I should call him now, ask about switching over."   
  
Merlin starts to move away, but turns back as Arthur's hand wraps around his wrist to keep him there. "What?"   
  
"A year ago we were arguing about Gawain going to Camelot Academy, and I insulted you. This year we're arguing about you still working, and I think I probably insulted you by asking you to stop. What are we going to be arguing about next year?"   
  
Arthur looks so openly worried, a rare thing for him, that Merlin darts in and kisses him softly. "Last year we hated each other. This year I'm moving in. Think about that instead."   
  
He's halfway towards the bigger study to call the Great Dragon (actually his boss, called John, but he can't remember when he last heard that name used) when Merlin follows his own line of thought and ends up at—  
  
Oh. He practically told Arthur they'd be _getting married_ next year.   
  
Merlin has a horrible image of Morgana and Gwen as bridesmaids in terrible dresses and shrugs it off. It's not as if Arthur will have taken him seriously.   
  
—-   
  
Morgana stares at Arthur in complete shock. This is not, apparently, a suitable expression for a fashionable dress shop, because she's getting a very disapproving look from one of the sales assistants. She shuts her mouth with an audible clack and tries to express her shock through her eyes only.   
  
It works, if Arthur's shoulders hunching even more is anything to go by.   
  
"You're asking me _what_?"   
  
"If you think Merlin would say yes if I asked him to marry me." It's the same thing he said before, and this time Morgana is slightly more prepared to hear it. She doesn't have an expensive silk dress in her hands, for one thing. She takes Arthur's arm and drags him towards the changing rooms, snapping "Three dresses and he's my brother" at the scared-looking woman at the entrance.   
  
Morgana pushes Arthur onto one of the plush chairs set out for the unfortunate women waiting while their friends (or shopping friends; they aren't the same thing at all) try on seemingly endless outfits. He looks up at her as she stands over him, hands on her hips.   
  
"What's the problem? You were trying to get us together, with the telling me he's gay, and the mistletoe, and now you're angry with me?!"   
  
"You've been together for two months, Arthur, and you've only known him for... _fourteen_! I'm not angry, I'm worried that you're moving too fast."   
  
Arthur stands and starts to pace. Morgana knows from past experience that when he starts doing this he'll be at it for a while, so she shuts herself into a cubicle and starts trying on the first dress.   
  
"I don't mean right here and now, obviously," comes Arthur's slight muffled voice from outside, "but if I were to ask him, what do you think he'd say?" Morgana steps out of the cubicle and turns in a circle. "No, it's hideous, entirely the wrong colour."   
  
It's pale peach; Morgana smiles as she returns to try the second dress on, glad to see Arthur hasn't gone entirely mad.   
  
Her voice is muffled this time, by several layers of silk and one of netting. "Honestly, I think he'd be shocked."   
  
Arthur doesn't even bother to comment on the dress this time, just raises an eyebrow.   
  
The third dress goes on with no accompanying comment from Arthur, leading Morgana to suspect he's finally learnt what she's been trying to teach him for years and is waiting for her to say something before leaping in again.   
  
"What about this one?" Morgana is surprised at Arthur's expression when she steps out in the final possible choice - in this shop, at least. He's withdrawn a little, body language quiet and restrained as he paces, as if what she might add will carry considerable weight.   
  
Morgana realises this is one of their few true brother-and-sister moments, and acts accordingly.   
  
She stops Arthur's pacing with a gentle hand on his shoulder, smiling softly at him. "He would be surprised, I stand by that, but he'd also say yes."   
  
Arthur looks at her with the boyish grin she knows is a large part of what makes him worth putting up with. "Really?"   
  
"Yes. Just don't spring it on him right now, okay?" Arthur grins sheepishly and nods.   
  
"I don't like him _that_ much."   
  
Morgana prods his ribs sharply, grinning at his yelp. "Don't lie to me."   
  
"You should get that dress" is all Arthur says, which is both an agreement and a promise.   
  
—-   
  
Gawain, unlike Arthur and Merlin, adapts very quickly to having someone else living with him. Whereas Arthur still jumps at the sounds of Merlin coming home from work (desk job at the Albion Agency, as agreed), and still sometimes looks confused at three places laid for meals even after Merlin's been living with them for three months, Gawain has no such problems.   
  
He's as likely to ask his dad for help with his homework as he is to ask Merlin to watch him practice his fencing, and always asks both of them to come to any school-related event.   
  
It takes them a while to work out that he's sharing things out equally between them.   
  
It takes them even longer to work out why, and by that time Gawain has already told all of his friends, and most of his teachers, that he's got two dads.   
  
—-   
  
Camelot Academy has a tradition of putting on pretentious and overblown Christmas productions, which holds even for Gawain's class. The previous year Merlin and Arthur had sat through the story of Babushka, played in all her glory by a little girl with glossy black hair and a voice like an angel.   
  
Arthur had leant over and whispered halfway through that he wanted to strangle her, to which Merlin had hissed he couldn't because Gawain would kill him in return, that particular little girl being the one he refused to admit he had a crush on, in a five year old sort of way.   
  
Arthur's reply had been that she reminded him of Morgana, and Merlin had had to bite the sleeve of his coat to stop himself laughing out loud.   
  
This year it's The Nutcracker, which means Gawain's old flame is relegated to being a mouse, because apparently Clara has to be blonde. Gawain himself is the Nutcracker, unfazed by the favouritism probably because he's blond himself, and also because, as he sternly informed Merlin when he'd told them of his role, he doesn't like Viviene " _at all_ anymore, because she's friends with Mordred, and definitely not in _that_ way."   
  
Merlin spends the show holding Arthur's hand between his own, at first because the whole atmosphere makes them feel intensely couple-y, and then because Arthur leans over between the first two acts and confides to Merlin in a painfully tight voice that Sophia has slipped in to sit a row in front of them.   
  
On the stage in front of them Clara yells at Fritz as he steals the wooden Nutcracker prince and pretends to search for a nut, while in the darkness below him Merlin threads his fingers through Arthur's and tries to convey without words just how strongly he's there and not going anywhere.   
  
Arthur leans over as Clara wakes up and screams in horror at seeing the Mouse King, rather fittingly played by Mordred, even if Gawain (and Arthur, and Merlin) say so. "If she wants to talk to me, will you stay?"   
  
Merlin twists awkwardly in his seat so that Arthur can see the full force of his glare. "Have you been trained from birth to be this idiotic," he whispers harshly, and sees Arthur flinch. "There's no way I'm bloody leaving you alone with her."   
  
By the end of the play Merlin's hand is cramped from how tightly Arthur is gripping it.   
  
Gawain comes racing up to them as they wait in the foyer, still dressed in his Nutcracker uniform and smiling the same charming smile Merlin had once thought, and rightly so, that he needed to guard himself against from Arthur. They congratulate Gawain on an excellent performance, Merlin carefully making them walk and talk in order to get outside as quickly as possible.   
  
They're almost at the door when a voice stops them. "Arthur, darling, leaving so soon?" Sophia steps into their line of view, quite obviously between them and the door. "I haven't had a chance to tell our son how good he was."   
  
It's clearly an opening for Gawain to go to her; she even leans down a little, expecting a hug or even a kiss on the cheek.   
  
Gawain, in one of his more disconcerting moments where he reminds Merlin of Arthur a little too much, simply looks at her and says "thank you."   
  
Sophia's polished demeanour slips a little. Her smile has slightly too much disdain in it when she looks at Merlin for the perfect 'society woman' image she seems to be going for. "You must be the nanny. Merlin, isn't it?"   
  
Behind Gawain's back Arthur's hand finds Merlin's again, and beyond the fact that it's the first time they've ever held hands in public Merlin can feel the desperation almost palpably coming from Arthur. He swings their hands forward enough to knock Gawain, and when he looks up Merlin raises an eyebrow and smiles.   
  
Gawain's answering grin is sharp. He looks over at his mother and, with all the finesse of a precocious six year old who is far more comfortable with his father being gay than being married to a woman (or maybe just this one) tells her firmly:   
  
"Yes, he's Merlin, but no, he's not 'the nanny'." He captures Sophia's soft but disparaging tone exactly, and Arthur's grip loosens slightly. "He's dad's boyfriend, so I've got two fathers, and they're both better than you!"   
  
He fumbles for Arthur and Merlin's hands, the ones not still clasped tightly together, and uses them to pull the two men out into the cold car park. He stops, breathless, at their car, and all three turn to look back.   
  
Sophia is still standing inside the foyer, although a few steps closer to the wide open doors as if she was about to follow them. Her velvet dress, in a shade of orange Morgana would no doubt have something scathing to say about, serves to highlight the whiteness her obvious anger has given her skin.   
  
Merlin raises a hand and high-fives Gawain, fiercely proud of this boy who claims him as a dad even after such a short time.   
  
"I thought I'd taught you better manners than that," says Arthur, sounding like he doesn't know whether to laugh or lecture.   
  
"Dad. It was _her_."   
  
Arthur opens his mouth to say something else, possibly even to tell Gawain off, but then he casts another look in Sophia's direction and sighs instead. He lifts a hand and smiles when Gawain high-fives him as well, before turning to Merlin and using the lapels of his coat to pull him close.   
  
"Thank you for staying." Merlin isn't sure whether Arthur means this situation in particular, or just in general, but it doesn't matter because Arthur is kissing him in the car park of the Camelot Academy, hands warm against Merlin's neck and threading through his hair.   
  
Gawain leaves them to it for two minutes before clearing his throat very pointedly.   
  
Merlin pulls away and rests his forehead against Arthur's, smiling uncontrollably. "How long did you give us this time?"   
  
"Two minutes, which is more than enough when it's this freezing."   
  
"I knew it was a mistake to get him a watch for his birthday," Arthur says ruefully, and with that they pile into the car.   
  
"I'll go straight to bed when we get home, make it up to you" is Gawain's comment as he fastens his seatbelt.   
  
Arthur nearly drives into one of the school's large gateposts.   
  
—-   
  
Christmas is mostly the same as last years, except instead of dragging Arthur and Merlin underneath the mistletoe Gwen and Morgana spend a lot of time pulling them _away_ from it.   
  
That, and for once Uther has his secretary send his gifts over the day before. He also neglects to tell either his son or Merlin what, exactly, he's bought for Gawain this year, so when he reveals the pair of replica medieval swords there's a long moment of silence as Gawain slashes one experimentally.   
  
Merlin leans away just in case.   
  
"Dad, just how sharp are those?"   
  
"Oh, don't worry," Uther says soothingly, looking remarkably mellow. That could be due to the large amount of brandy he's drunk, of course, that Merlin has absolutely not been helping him with because he's still slightly scared of Uther Pendragon. "They aren't sharp at all."   
  
Arthur appropriates the second sword from its box and runs his thumb down the blade. He shows the unbroken skin to Merlin and his frown clears a little. "Hmm. I suppose he can keep them, in that case."   
  
"Will you duel with me, Dad?" Gawain's face is lit with childish excitement, and Merlin knows the answer even before Arthur answers.   
  
"Of course."   
  
With a war cry more befitting a warrior king than a businessman Arthur leaps from his seat next to Merlin on the sofa and swings at Gawain. His son parries at precisely the right angle, deflecting Arthur's strike and moving in for one of his own. They spar up and down the room, Merlin delivering a kick to Arthur's backside when they get too close to where he's still sitting.   
  
Morgana sends them out into the hall with a yell as one of Gawain's lunges goes wide and the tip of his sword reduces a glass bauble from the tree into a pile of shards, neither him nor Arthur noticing through their exhilarated laughter and equally boyish enthusiasm.   
  
Merlin turns from watching their dramatic exit to find himself being stared at by Morgana, Lance, Gwen and Uther, all wearing 'how the hell do you put up with him' expressions.   
  
Merlin just smiles and tries not to wince at a loud crash from the hall.   
  
—-   
  
Arthur falls ill just after Christmas, and Merlin ignores Uther's ranting and orders for the top specialists in every field to be contacted, making a frantic call to Dr. Gaius instead. His old boss arrives that same day, bringing with him a reassuring presence and weighty reputation that even Uther stands aside for.   
  
He spends half an hour with Arthur, speaking in a low, measured voice as Arthur struggles to answer the gentle questions.   
  
Uther leaves before the doctor is finished, unable to stand around doing nothing.   
  
Arthur's last fully coherent words for almost a month are an apology for giving Merlin another shitty New Year. Merlin's too busy making sure he's comfortable and that Gawain knows not to get too close just in case to pay much attention, but Morgana later tells him quietly that Arthur had booked a weekend away for the two of them, Gawain more than happy to stay with her for a few days.   
  
It's almost too much for Merlin to cope with, on top of Gaius' solemn expression and the possibility that Arthur might not recover. Gaius won't tell Merlin what's wrong, exactly; the medical explanation is something to do with a virus, and enzymes, and if he's honest Merlin doesn't really want to know anyway.   
  
Merlin's just put a pale and quiet Gawain to bed when Gaius arrives bearing a plain brown file and looking a little less drawn. He holds the file out to Merlin, who takes it slowly.   
  
"What's this?"   
  
"Hope, possibly."   
  
Merlin spreads the file out on the kitchen table, which is where for some reason he feels most comfortable at the moment. Gaius waits patiently while Merlin reads through the entire file, occasionally asking for clarification on a medical point.   
  
He doesn't have to ask that much; he's learnt a lot over the course of Arthur's illness.   
  
Finally he closes the file and looks at Gaius. "This could help?"   
  
Gaius nods. "I've spoken to the doctor in charge of the trial, an old friend of mine. Geoffrey is more than prepared to start treatment tomorrow."   
  
Merlin has to stand and walk around, running his hands over the furniture and fittings that are so familiar to him now. He knows, from a very stilted and uncomfortable few moments with Uther several days ago, that if the worst should happen he's the main beneficiary of Arthur's will. It's not something Merlin ever wanted to know, really, but it had stopped the vague worries he'd had.   
  
Sophia's name had never come up, but Uther had very vehemently told Merlin that's unless he objected, custody of Gawain would be split between himself and Merlin.   
  
"Of course I've got no fucking objections" may have been the only time Merlin will ever swear at Uther Pendragon, but neither of them had cared.   
  
"And there's a 70% chance it'll cure him?" Merlin asks, more to try and stay focused than out of any real desire to know.   
  
"Better, if Arthur's immune system reacts well."   
  
"Then yes. Do it." Gaius sweeps Merlin up in an entirely unprofessional hug, smiling for the first time since he'd walked into Arthur's room to make a primary assessment. Merlin watches him pick up the phone and dial Geoffrey Monmouth, a physician almost as highly acclaimed as Gaius, and wonders if he's ever going to want to smile again.   
  
**   
  
Long, tension filled hours made short, it works.   
  
Arthur's back on his feet within the week, fending off questions from Gawain about what it had felt like, being that ill, and complaining about the strict diet of mush that Gaius has him on.   
  
Merlin feels like he's on the periphery for the first day or so, watching Arthur and his son reassure each other that everything's going to be okay. He makes what feels like more tea than he's ever made in his life for Gaius and Geoffrey (hanging around to make sure he sees the vital first hours of the recovery process), accepts Uther's silent thanks (conveyed via his eyebrows, oddly) and smiles whenever he sees Arthur watching him from over the top of Gawain's head.   
  
Morgana and Gwen, fixtures in the house since Arthur had first fallen ill, convince an already suspicious Gawain that Arthur would like to spend some time with Merlin _alone._   
  
Merlin curls up on their (stupidly) large bed and wraps his arms around Arthur, feeling Arthur do the same to him. They cling to each other in that wordless way men have when they can't quite express the depth of their emotions, and while Merlin doesn't cry, precisely, his vision goes blurry for a while and the lump in his throat makes it difficult to breathe.   
  
—-   
  
Gawain makes all the arrangements for Valentines Day himself, sneaking around and making good use of Gwen and Morgana's continued interest in making sure Arthur and Merlin have a perfect night to themselves.   
  
Arthur's protests that he'd much rather spend the evening at home with Merlin fall on four sets of deaf ears, Lance having been drafted in just in case they need extra muscle.   
  
"Why might you need extra muscle?!"   
  
"Because," Morgana answers sweetly, "you're still weak, and if you keep on refusing to give Merlin a proper Valentines Day, we can get Lance to carry you to the damn restaurant!"   
  
Merlin looks up from where Gawain is teaching him the correct way to clean a sword and grimaces. "Morgana, I'd rather stay in as well, you know."   
  
"I know you think you do, but Gwen and I think that you both need a night out."   
  
"Oh, well, if _both_ of you think so, how can we argue?" Arthur's sarcasm goes unheeded as Morgana smiles happily and sails off to tell Gwen their plan has been a success. Arthur looks incredulously at Merlin as the door closes behind his step-sister. "Did she take me seriously?"   
  
"Yes," answers Merlin with a laugh, "and you agreed for me as well. I suppose we'll have to make the most of it."   
  
Arthur sighs and stares at the pile of work he'd finally managed to persuade Merlin to let him have, pleading looming insanity due to the sudden shift from workaholic to doing nothing. "So long as it's not a French restaurant, fine."   
  
Merlin tilts his head questioningly at Arthur, but it's Gawain who answers. "Mum always used to want to go to a French place." He's almost vicious with his swipes of the whetstone along the edge of his fencing rapier as he speaks. Merlin barely stops himself from wincing; having met Sophia, he can imagine the type of place, and would rather eat rat than step inside one. "We've booked a table at the Gedref Inn for you."   
  
Arthur and Merlin share an amused look. "How do you know we like it there?" Merlin asks with no little trepidation. Goodness knows what Gawain's reasoning is; precocious he may be, but according to Arthur Merlin's influence is making him think more like a child.   
  
"Dad took you there for your first proper date," answers the six year old, "and you both looked utterly wrecked the morning after." He grins up at them both, completely aware of what he's referring to that's put such a look of horror on the two adult's faces, and not caring a bit.   
  
Needless to say, with that sort of recommendation, Valentines Day is a success.   
  
—-   
  
Arthur is completely recovered, the worries of January put far behind them by the time Spring bursts into bloom. Gwen is in a permanent good mood, trying to convince Merlin to take part in the local dramatics groups she's joined at some point. He pleads too much to do, claiming the Great Dragon has him working overtime to get a sudden influx of nannies needing new jobs paired off with suitable employers.   
  
It works until she turns up unexpectedly to find him in the middle of a West Wing marathon with Arthur, laughing hysterically at Arthur's criticisms of various scenes.   
  
"You told me you'd got too much work to help me," she says accusingly, hands on her hips. Merlin peers over the back of the sofa at her and wonders why he ever thought he could get away with it.   
  
"Sorry. I'll get my coat."   
  
Gwen nods approvingly and drags Arthur along for good measure, putting both of them to _real work,_ as she terms it, making sets for the rather disconcertingly named play 'The Beginning of the End.'   
  
"That'd better not be prophetic," Arthur mutters jokingly out of the corner of his mouth. Merlin rolls his eyes and flicks red paint at him in answer.   
  
Spring also brings with it more trouble for Gawain. While Arthur and Merlin are painting backgrounds and moving sets around, Gawain gets quieter and stops being as enthusiastic as he usually is about school. It goes unnoticed, to everyone in his extended family's chagrin, until the opening night of the play.   
  
Halfway through Gwen's big scene Gawain suddenly shrinks down in his seat and huddles into his jacket. Arthur looks down, startled by the action, and looks over at Merlin, sitting on the other side of Gawain.   
  
"I'm getting déjà vu," Arthur whispers. Merlin scans the town hall they're sitting in.   
  
"I don't see Sophia anywhere." Merlin wriggles down until he's at the same level as Gawain. "What's wrong?"   
  
"Mr Chwilen's here," comes the faint reply from somewhere inside Gawain's coat.   
  
"The new biology teacher?"   
  
"Mhm."   
  
Merlin sits up and leans over to tell Arthur what the matter is. Arthur frowns. "He's not mentioned any problems at school." They both look down at Gawain, watching Gwen's performance from between the shoulders of the people in front of him with the air of a boy ready to duck at a moment's notice. "Then again, we have been a bit busy."   
  
Merlin nods his agreement and they each take hold of one of Gawain's hands, which makes him uncurl enough for Gwen to see and wave at him when she takes her bow at the end.   
  
Back at home, wrapped in the comfiest blanket they own and safely ensconced between Merlin and Arthur, Gawain explains.   
  
"He's a new teacher, which you'd think would make him less likely to be obvious about having favourites, or picking on specific kids, but it _doesn't._ He _always_ chooses Mordred to help with all the experiments, or Viviene, and doesn't let the rest of us do anything fun like that."   
  
"Have the other teachers noticed?"   
  
Gawain shrugs. "I don't know. He's just as bad with them, that's the problem. He's trying to get Mr Perceval fired because of 'bad teaching methods', and it's working! He's on his final notice, and Mr Chwilen only started a month ago. _And_ he's almost driven Madame Iseult, the art teacher, to quitting, and we thought she could handle _anything_ after that trouble with her old boyfriend attacking Tristan!"   
  
"How on _earth_ do you know about that?"   
  
"She told us. It's not every day your fiancé gets attacked by an old flame, and she wanted to tell us how brave he was."   
  
"Oh. Right." Arthur glances at Merlin, who simply shrugs.   
  
"Not everyone goes through a meeting with their lawyer before sharing information, Arthur."   
  
Gawain looks up when Arthur doesn't reply with a comment of his own, like he expects. "Dad?"   
  
"Do you know Mr Chwilen's first name?" Gawain looks a little worried, and Merlin doesn't blame him; the look on Arthur's face is making him nervous as well.   
  
"Edwin, I think. Why?"   
  
"Arthur, you can't get Gawain's teacher fired!"   
  
"I can damn well try," Arthur replies as he strides towards his study. He says it with such strong assurance that Gawain sighs and stands up.   
  
"I'm going to bed. There's no way to stop Dad when he gets into this mood; he'll get him fired whatever we say."   
  
"Are you sure?" Merlin asks, hoping there's a way he can stop this.   
  
"Don't you remember what he was like when you were moving in?"   
  
That'd be a no on stopping Arthur, then.   
  
Merlin debates the pros and cons of making a token effort, and decides against it. He does decide, however, to go and listen to Arthur ordering whichever unlucky lawyer he gets hold of to find out any dirty little secrets that Edwin Chwilen might have.   
  
He leans in the doorway of Arthur's office, a wood-panelled and stupidly ostentatious room that hasn't changed much since it was built four hundred years ago, and watches Arthur pace behind his desk.   
  
The call only lasts for a couple of minutes, Arthur delivering his demands with a swiftness and authority borne from years of training. As he'd once remarked to Merlin, he's been trained from birth to be a ruthless businessman.   
  
"Which poor servant did you load that distasteful task onto?"   
  
Arthur grins at him, the sharp and faintly feral grin that he wears after successful business deals and that never fails to make Merlin's blood run fast. "Kay. He needs the experience." Arthur walks purposely towards Merlin, still grinning, and Merlin makes one last attempt at getting his point across.   
  
"You really shouldn't have done tha-" He breaks off as his back hits the panelling.   
  
"Why don't you just say you find me irresistible when I'm all commanding and shouting at people, and leave it at that?"   
  
"Isn't your ego big enough as it is?" Merlin says, voice not quite level as Arthur kicks the door shut, hands closing firmly on his hips and effectively pinning him to the wall.   
A fierce kiss is all the answer Merlin gets.   
  
—-   
  
When Uther and Arthur fight, the whole company knows about it, and it takes them both at least a day to calm down.   
  
It's just Merlin's bad luck that this time the fight happens to be about him, and that he's home when Arthur gets back. Arthur is still spoiling for a fight, and lays into Merlin when Merlin makes his customary deflection of a question about that old sore spot, Nimueh du Lac.  
They end up screaming at each other for a good half hour before Merlin simply walks out.   
  
Arthur yanks one of Gawain's fencing foils from the pile of his school stuff by the door and throws it at one of his ancestor's portraits. It lands solidly in the chin of his uncle Aurelius, quivering rapidly as Arthur slumps at the base of the great staircase and hangs his head as the anger is replaced with shame.   
  
He's still there an hour later when Merlin returns, crossing the large entrance hall without a word and sitting at the opposite side of the stairs to Arthur. He sits side on, leaning against a banister post, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. He waits for Arthur to turn and face him before speaking.   
  
"I'm only going to go through this once, so listen carefully." Merlin waits for Arthur's nod before he starts to continue. "About three- what happened to Aurelius?"   
  
Arthur twists his head to look at the now-still foil. "I, um, was angry with myself for shouting at you."   
  
Merlin lifts an eyebrow, almost smiling. "So you threw a sword at your uncle?"   
  
"You're important" is all Arthur says, making a 'carry on' gesture. Merlin takes a deep breath.   
  
"About three years ago I was working for Nimueh as her nanny, which I think everyone knows. She wasn't that bad to work for, actually; a bit intense, and I think some of her business dealings weren't quite legal, but that didn't really affect me."   
  
"She got indicted last year, for insider trading."   
  
"There you go, then." The beginnings of a smile appear at the corner of Merlin's mouth, and Arthur feels something painful in his chest ease up a fraction. "Anyway, like I said, that stuff didn't affect me. Until she got beaten to a deal by Elaine Corbenic."   
  
"The woman who owns Grail Advertising?"   
  
"That's the one."   
  
"I'm not surprised she reacted badly; Corbenic isn't the nicest person in terms of her attitude towards the people she beats."   
  
Merlin stretches his legs out, feeling himself calm down now that he's going through it. "Nimueh doesn't react well to being beaten, either. She wanted me to take a job as nanny to Galahad Corbenic, so that I could spy on his mother and get Nimueh information on the next deal Elaine was planning."   
  
Arthur stares at Merlin. "Even by _my_ father's standards that's wrong."   
  
"I didn't agree, obviously. Besides it being wrong on just about every level, I knew Elaine already. She'd tried to get Lance to cheat on Gwen with her a few months previously, and when he refused she pretty much told all of our friends that he had, just to prove that she could."   
  
Merlin looks so unhappy that Arthur scoots over to his side before he stops to think that Merlin might not want him so close right now, remembering in time to stop himself wrapping Merlin in a tight hug.   
  
"Gwen believed Lance, obviously, but it still hurt them both for a long while." Merlin leans against Arthur's side, resting his head on Arthur's broad shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but it's not something I like to think about."   
  
Arthur reminds himself that he's well able to defend himself against Merlin, just in case, and wraps his arms around the man. "I'm glad you told me, though. Now I can go shout at my father and tell him he's bloody wrong about you."   
  
"Do I want to know what he's been saying?"   
  
" _No_ ," Arthur says firmly, at which Merlin laughs. "You know what he's like. One hint of something suspicious and he's all for beheading some poor secretary."   
  
"True."   
  
Uther's intolerances are legend throughout Pendragon Holdings, and by association in the Pendragon extended family. Merlin lets Arthur pull him up and lead him towards the kitchen, putting up no resistance.   
  
"If you're going to make me dinner by way of an apology..." Arthur looks at him with the dangerously sweet and pleading eyes he pulls out when Merlin attempts to deny him something, "then I suppose I can forgive you."   
  
"Ha! And you tell me I'm rubbish at being sensitive." Arthur misses the despairing look Merlin gives him as he starts clattering pans around and sending Cook off to get various ingredients he's sure he needs (she will later whack him on the hand with a wooden spoon and send him to sit quietly with Merlin while she salvages the meal).   
  
Gawain surfaces from his bedroom and makes his way to the kitchen just as Arthur burns himself with hot tomato sauce, to the mutual amusement of Cook and Merlin. He pulls a chair next to Merlin as close as it will go, and, in much the same way as Merlin had done to Arthur a short while before, leans against him.   
  
What Arthur doesn't know, and never will, is that it was Gawain who called Merlin and asked him to come back.   
  
Merlin kisses the top of Gawain's head and whispers a promise to not keep any more secrets.   
  
—-   
  
After such an eventful start to the year, Merlin hopes that the summer will pass by peacefully. He has high hopes that the biggest ripple in this calm will be Gawain's seventh birthday party, which he also hopes will involve less chicken nuggets than last year.   
  
He also vetoes a piñata, just in case.   
  
Even Arthur gets involved with this plan, slowly clearing his enormous workload in the weeks building up to Gawain breaking up for the summer holidays, and telling his father point blank that he's not taking on anything else until the Autumn Term starts.   
  
This works well until Uther just happens to mention that Excalibur Motors are looking for a new partner, to which news Arthur reacts with a startled grin and Merlin with a roll of his eyes. Arthur cannot resist anything shiny, sharp or fast, something that Gawain has inherited, and Excalibur Motors produce cars which combine two out of the three.   
  
Maybe even three out of three, if their new racing prototype turns out to really be as pointed as it looks on the plans Arthur unrolls for Merlin.   
  
The negotiations, which take up most of the first three weeks of summer, are almost exclusively held by Arthur. He refuses to let any of the Pendragon staff of lawyers help him with more than the basic terms, preferring instead to actually talk to the engineers and workers to see what sort of thing they want.   
  
Gawain is very philosophical about essentially losing his father for part of his holiday, mostly because Arthur brings him back a small die cast model of each car Excalibur Motors have ever made each time he returns from a meeting. They have to put up a new set of shelves in Gawain's room because there are a _lot_ of cars and a _lot_ of meetings.   
  
Something else is going on, because Gwen keeps turning up at the house, apparently to 'keep Merlin company,' but in reality hiding herself away with Morgana to discuss something Top Secret. Occasionally Lance will come with her, but he gets relegated to actually keeping Merlin company and doesn't know anything about whatever is going on.   
  
Gawain's party is, thankfully, painless, both in terms of ease of planning and bruises. Merlin points a warning finger at Galahad (thankfully brought by his father and not Elaine), who was the cause of a very painful bruise to Merlin's hip after his turn at the piñata last year, and sends him off to join Gawain and the other boys in another impromptu - but slightly better organised - game of cricket.   
  
"Do they teach them any other sports at that fancy school," asks Gwen as she helps Merlin set out sandwiches of seemingly endless description on tables set out along the patio. Too much food had been trodden into the carpet last year, Arthur had decreed, and so the food is banished outside.   
  
Luckily it's another gloriously hot day.   
  
"It seems like all they do is play cricket."   
  
"It's either that or hockey, and Arthur hasn't got round to having a pitch laid out yet," Merlin teases. He frowns when Gwen merely nods and moves on to uncovering bowls of salad. "Gwen, I was being sarcastic."   
  
She nods distractedly. "Oh."   
  
"Look, I can tell something's going on; you're not subtle."   
  
Gwen looks at him and bites her lip, seemingly considering something carefully before she turns and runs into the house. Merlin watches her with the expression of someone who is resigned to never understanding the people he loves, and moves to help a group of kids requesting drinks after their rousing game of almost-cricket.   
  
Complete silence behind him, broken only by a hastily smothered cough, makes him spin around. Morgana, Gwen and Lance are standing in a row in front of a lot of parents who should have gone once they'd dropped their children off- "Morgana, what are they still doing here?"   
  
"We need witnesses," is her worrying answer. Merlin takes a step back, only to have Lance lunge forward and take firm hold of him.   
  
"Sorry, Merlin, but I've got my orders," he says, looking anything but apologetic.   
  
Merlin glares at Gwen. She smiles brightly, and then she and Morgana move to one side, revealing Arthur, who walks forward to stand right in front of Merlin.   
  
And then goes down onto one knee.   
  
Merlin pulls frantically against Lance's tight hold and shakes his head rapidly. "Nononono, Arthur, please tell me this is a joke, I was joking when I said we'd be arguing about this sort of thing in a year, I really was, I-"   
  
"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur says with a smile. Merlin clamps his mouth shut. "It's obvious you already know what I'm going to ask, so there's really no need for the long speech Morgana and Gwen prepared for me."   
  
The women make twin noises of protests, and Merlin glares again.   
  
Arthur continues. "So, I suppose all that's left is for you to answer." Merlin gapes down at him, uncomfortably aware of the parents watching with sincere interest. A shout from down the garden makes Merlin close his eyes and wish Gawain had chosen to set up his game much further away in the several acres of parkland at his disposal.   
  
He really doesn't want to have to do this in front of so many people, including Arthur's seven year old son. It should be _private_.   
  
Then Gawain comes into his line of view, face alight with potential happiness as well as the simple joy of being the birthday boy. Merlin looks from him to an Arthur he remembers from this time last year, gilded by the sun and happy in the most uncomplicated way, and falls a little bit more in love.   
  
"Prat."   
  
Arthur's smile threatens to rival the sun as he stands smoothly and kisses Merlin hard. "Idiot."   
  
Gawain almost knocks them both over as he throws himself at them, clinging tightly for a moment before pulling back with all the dignity of a seven year old and taking himself and his friends off to finish their game of almost-cricket.   
  
Arthur waits until the cacophony of people congratulating them quietens down, and takes a box from Morgana. "It's not exactly traditional, but I though that would be appropriate for us." He opens the box and offers it to Merlin with a flourish.   
  
Merlin takes one look and cuffs Arthur over the head.   
  
"I'm not sure whether to be worried or insulted." Arthur manages to smirk and look sheepish at the same time as Merlin lifts the pair of vambraces out of their hollows, unable to help admiring the sheen of the metal.   
  
"I was aiming for flattered," Arthur says, watching him with an expression leaving happy and veering into hungry as Merlin slides the left vambrace over his wrist.   
  
"You got me _armour_ instead of an engagement ring, Arthur. You were dead on when you said non traditional."  
  
Arthur stills the fumbling of Merlin's fingers as he tries to fasten the catch, and does it himself with a quick twist. "Gawain wants to go pro with his fencing, you're going to need armour." He fastens the second catch, holding Merlin's hands together to get the full effect. Arthur grins up at him, and Merlin forgets why he ever thought he had to guard against that charmingly boyish smile.   
  
Merlin pulls his hands out of Arthur's grip and loops his arms around Arthur's neck, leaning in close to say "is that so?"   
  
"Yup. Start as we mean to go on, after all."   
  
Merlin feels he is completely justified in resting the cold metal against the back of Arthur's neck as Arthur leans in to kiss him, and the resulting squeak more than makes up for the publicity of the whole affair.   
  
_Just like a Pendragon,_ Merlin thinks. _Has to do everything over the top and far too fast._   
  
The solid feel of Arthur's body against his as they hug tightly, and the sounds of Gawain yelling as he catches someone out, make him think this isn't such a bad thing after all.

 

 


End file.
